


Trying to do it right

by bayloriffic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-18 18:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bayloriffic/pseuds/bayloriffic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle expects him to just magic the chains away like he did that day in the mines, but he’s got a key in his hand. His skin is warm and soft against hers, his delicate fingers moving feather-light against her as he fits the key into the lock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trying to do it right

**Author's Note:**

> Post-ep for "Child of the Moon" (2.07)

Belle is sitting on the floor, halfway through _Jane Eyre_ when she hears the doors to the library open. 

“I hope the townspeople didn’t kill you, Ruby,” she yells. The metal of the cuffs have made her wrists red and painful and Belle is just tired of being locked up. “Because I really, _really_ want to.” 

“Sorry, dearie," Rumpelstiltskin calls back. "You’ll need to save those murderous impulses for another time.”

“Rumpel,” she says, surprised. Her skirt is twisted, rucked up around her thighs, and she hastily straightens it with her one free hand, clumsily pulling it down on her legs. “Hi.” 

“Hello." He’s dressed in a suit, looking pressed and put together as always, even though it’s long past midnight. 

“What are you doing here?” She doesn’t mean for it to sound quite as accusatory as it does, but she's just very, very tired.

“David called,” he says by way of explanation. “Prince Charming had to babysit, so. I’m here to free you.”

“Well, that’s ironic,” she says, closing her book and laying it down on one of the shelves next to her. 

“Yes, well,” he says. He leans on his cane and looks down at the floor and she feels suddenly, incredibly terrible. He is trying to help her, after all. 

“I am glad you came,” she says. 

"Clearly." The corner of his mouth is quirked up in a half-smile, but there's a hard edge to his voice. 

“Not just someone,” Belle clarifies. “ _You._ ” 

“You need only call, you know,” he tells her, his tone softening. “And I’ll arrive.” 

Belle nods, biting her lower lip and glancing down at the scuffed linoleum floor. 

“Well,” he says, after a moment. “Let’s get you out of those chains.” 

She expects him to just magic them away like he did that day in the mines, but he’s got a key in his hand. His skin is warm and soft against hers, his delicate fingers moving feather-light against her as he fits the key into the lock. 

“Ruby left it on the circulation desk,” he explains as he works, and she can hear the nervous undercurrent in his voice. “David told me where to find it.” 

“Right,” she says, and her voice catches in her throat. He is very, very close to her, and he smells so familiar, sort of warm and vaguely spicy. Belle takes a breath and forces herself to speak normally. “Of course.” 

He unlocks the cuffs, and she rubs at her wrist, tender from the metal. 

“There you go,” he says, so low that she barely hears him. “Free as the proverbial bird.” 

Belle smiles wryly. If there’s anything she hasn’t felt lately, it’s free. He reaches down and helps her up, their hands grasped tightly as he pulls her to her feet.

He holds onto her hand, staring down at the angry redness of her wrist. He brushes his thumb over the raw skin, and Belle gasps before she can stop herself. 

"You're hurt," he says, his voice quiet but suddenly dangerous.

"No," she says, but she doesn't pull away. "No, I'm fine."

"Belle," he says. He's still examining her wrist, his thumb stroking back and forth over her pulse point. Belle's heart feels like it's not beating right, like it's skipping too fast in her chest.

Rumpelstiltskin watches her closely, not saying anything, and she wonders if his newfound commitment to honesty means he’ll barely ever speak to her again. He's still touching her, though, and she figures that's probably a good sign.

"I'm fine," she says again. "Really."

"Okay," he says, and she can tell he's trying to control his anger, trying to react in a way that won't upset her. He takes a step back, letting go of her hand, his fingers falling gently from her wrist. Belle resists the urge to reach out for him again, her skin still warm from his touch.

“I’ve moved into the apartment, you know,” she tells him, just to say something. “The caretaker one upstairs.”

“Ah,” he says. “Good.” 

“It’s still a bit bare,” she says. “But I think I’m making some progress.” 

“Good,” he says again. “That’s…that’s good.”

Belle smiles despite herself. His quiet hesitance never fails to amuse her, the sight of the great and powerful Rumpelstiltskin, feared many lands over, stuttering like a nervous schoolboy.

“Would you like to see it?”

He starts a little, eyes wide. “I would,” he says. “Very much.” 

They walk up the stairs together, Belle matching her pace to his. Neither one of them says anything, and Belle rubs nervously at her already raw wrist. The next time she sees Ruby, she is definitely going to kill her. 

“I have tea,” she finally blurts out. Her voice seems very loud in the quiet stairwell. 

He raises his eyebrows and glances at her sidelong. “Is that right?”

“Yep,” she says. They’ve finally reached the landing and only have about four more awkward steps until they get to the apartment. “If you’d like to stay for a bit. For tea, I mean…”

“I’d be delighted.” 

Belle opens the door and he follows her inside, looking around curiously even though he must have seen it all before when he made his inquiries into buying the library.

He doesn’t say anything about the place, which is actually kind of a relief. Belle just hasn’t had the time or energy to do much of anything with it. 

The kettle whistles and she carefully pours the boiling water over the tea bags the warm scent of chamomile filling the apartment. 

While she ways the requisite three minutes for them to steep, neither of them say anything. Rumpel’s standing by the window now, staring out into the dark, silent Storybrooke night. 

She only has two mugs, white with faded _Granny’s_ logos on the side, and she adds sugar and milk to one of them, hoping that Rumpel's tastes haven't changed much in the last thirty years. 

He nods his thanks as she hands him his cup, smiling at her as he takes a sip. 

Belle only feels slightly embarrassed about the place; after all, she figures spending three decades locked in a basement is as good an excuse as any for a lack of interior decorating skills. Still, though, she can’t help but remember those couple of weeks she spent at his house, how everything seemed so extravagant and clean and beautifully furnished. 

“I’m, uh…I’m going to get some more furniture soon,” she tells him, as they sit on her crappy little couch, sipping their tea and looking at the bare white walls of her apartment. “Some paintings. Maybe a plant.” 

“Well, you can come by the shop anytime you want. Take your pick of whatever you like.” 

“You’ll make me a good deal, I hope?” she teases, bumping her shoulder against his. 

He nods and gives her a sideways smile, nudging her back. “Of course,” he says, quietly. “Of course.”

A few more seconds of awkward silence and then: “Well, I’m sure you must be tired,” he says. “Thank you for the tea.” 

He's up and moving towards the door before Belle even has a chance to register that he's leaving. He’s already got his hand on the doorknob when she finally calls out to him. 

“Rumpelstiltksin--” she starts, not knowing what else she wants to say.

“Yes, dearie?” He stops and turns towards her, leaning on his cane, his knuckles white against the brushed gold of the handle. 

She walks up to him and kisses him gently on the mouth. He hesitates for just a moment before he kisses her back, bringing one hand up to trail his fingers along her cheek. He slides his hand to the back of her neck and she licks lightly at his lower lip, smiling a little when he makes a quiet, desperate noise in the back of his throat.

“Belle,” he says, pulling back just enough so that he can look her in the eyes. His hand is still cupping her neck, his skin warm and comforting against hers. 

She leans closer to him, closing her eyes as she presses her forehead against his. His skin is so soft in this world, untouched by the dark magic that she remembers from before. It’s times like this that she thinks that maybe he really has changed, and something in her chest gets tight.

“Thank you,” she finally says, her lips barely brushing against his. “For rescuing me.” 

“You are quite welcome, my dear,” he says, and his breath is warm against her cheek. 

He kisses her again then, just a quick brush of his lips against hers, and Belle feels her breath catch in her throat. 

“Good night, my lady,” he says, stepping back and giving her a rather formal bow.

“Good night,” she echoes, half-curtseying at him with a little laugh. 

He walks out the door, and her wrist is red and raw, but as she watches him walk away in his dapper black suit, Belle can’t seem to stop smiling.


End file.
